Living the Fantasy (or so I thought)
by RinOrangeKagine
Summary: And that's when it struck me-he has lips! Truly outstanding lips. And he'd been sensitive and kind. And how could I have never noticed those lips? Suddenly I couldn't resist the magnetic pull of his magnificent mouth. It tugged me in closer until I just gave in and kissed him. Rin is on a search for a perfect crimson kiss, but finding it is more difficult than she'd thought. Rinx?
1. Chapter 1: Dirty Laundry

Living the Fantasy (or so I thought)

XOXO

Full Summary:

Three Steps to living your fantasy!

One, speak your fantasy. I, Rinnaline Yuki Kagine, want a kiss. One spectacular, heart-stopping, life-altering crimson kiss. Okay, so I've had very little lip-locking experience up til now, but I've got assets…

Two, See your fantasy. He sweeps me into his arms, looks lovingly into my eyes, his lips brush against mine, warm, tender, full of smoldering passion, and then… oh yeah, I can definitely see it.

Three, Live your fantasy. That's it?! How?

The self-help book made it sound easy, but finding a crimson kisser in the halls of Yamaha High is proving more difficult than Rin imagined. What seem like good kissing prospects turn out to be fish-lipped kissers, or miser kissers, or worse – ear-lickers. Disgusting! But Rin is not ready to give up. She really needs to believe in love right now. Or at least in the possibility for love. Or – oh, one good kiss isn't too much to ask for, is it?

XOXO

Chapter 1: Dirty Laundry

My name is Rinnaline Yuki Kagine, and I am a serial kisser.

I haven't always been a serial kisser. There was a time not that long ago when I had next to no kissing experience. It's interesting how things can change so fast – how you can go from being sixteen with very few lip-locking credentials to being barely seventeen and a certified serial kisser.

It all started one day with dirty laundry.

At least that's what I trace it back to.

My mother had said, "Rinnaline, please. I could really use some help around the house." She'd looked so tired, and what with homework and the amount of time I'd been wasting at Beat Records looking through old LPs and CDs, I had been slacking. Especially compared to the hours she'd been working.

So after school the next day I kicked into gear. I had the condo to myself because Mom was working her usual 11AM to 8PM shift, and since my taste in music is old blues and classic rock (probably thanks to being bombarded with it since my early days in the womb), I selected an Aerosmith greatest hits CD and cranked it up.

I made the kitchen spotless during "Mama Kin," Dream On," "Same Old Song and Dance," and "Seasons of Wither," sang along with "Walk This Way" and "Sweet Emotion" while I cleaned the bathroom, then tidied the bedrooms through "Last Child" and "Back in the Saddle."

It was during the pulsing beat of "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)" that I began my fateful search for wayward laundry.

Laundry at the Kagine girl's residence isn't found in hampers. It's found on the floor, draped over chairs, putrefying in boxes and baskets… it's anywhere my mom and I want to dump it. And in my rocked-out state I was checking for laundry in places I'd never looked before. Like on her closet floor, behind and between the big packing boxes that still serve as my mother's dresser, and then under my mother's bed. It was there that I discovered one dusty sock and a whole library of books.

Not just random books, either.

Romance books.

At first all I could do was gawk at the covers. I'd seen these kinds of books at the grocery store, but they were so obviously stupid and trashy that I wouldn't be caught dead actually looking at one.

But now here I was with a whole library of trash in front of me and no worries that someone might spot me.

So as strains of "Angel" began playing, I looked!

I checked out all the covers, then started reading the blurbs on the backs. Aerosmith eventually quit playing, but I didn't even notice. I was skimming pages, laughing at the ridiculous, flowery prose, my jaw literally dropped as I read (in great detail) how one book's chisel-chested man and his luscious lady "joined souls in sublime adoration."

I couldn't believe what I'd found. Couldn't believe my mother! While I was slogging through _The Last of the Mohicans _and _The Red Badge of Courage_ for my insane literature teacher, Miss Megurine, my mother was reading books with bare-chested men and swooning women? Miss Megurine would have an English-lit fit over these books, and for once I'd agree with her!

But for each book I put down, I picked up another. And another. And another. Why, I don't know. Was I looking for more soul joining? I don't think so. Something to hold over my mother's head? She didn't need any more ravaging. I think it was more that I was still in shock over my mom being a closet romance freak.

But after ten pages out of the middle of a book called _A Crimson Kiss, _something weird happened: I actually kind of cared about Delilah, the woman that the story was about.

I read some more out of the middle, but since I didn't get why Delilah was in her predicament, I went back to the beginning to figure it out.

I have no idea where the time went. I was carried away by the story, swept into the swirl of romance, racing hearts, anticipation, and love. They were things that were missing in my life. After six months of watching my parents; marriage implode, I found it hard to believe in true love.

But inside the pages of this book my parents' problems vanished. It was just Delilah and her hero, Grayson – a man whose kiss would save her from her heartache and make her feel alive.

Love felt possible.

One kiss – the right kiss – could conquer all!

So I read on, devouring the book until I was jolted back to reality by mother jangling through the front door.

Busted!

In my panic, it didn't even occur to me that _she_ was really the one busted. I just shoved her books back under her bed and escaped to my room with _A Crimson Kiss_.


	2. Chapter 2: Shifting Paradigms

Living the Fantasy

Chapter 2: Shifting Paradigms

Over the next two months, I read every book in my mother's sub-mattress library, including a self-help book on finding your inner power and another called _A Call to Action_ on how to take charge of your life. (Books she'd gotten, no doubt, to help her get over my two-timing dad.)

But it was _A Crimson Kiss_ that I kept going back to. It was _A Crimson Kiss_ that I read and reread. The other romance novels didn't have any layers to them; no real guts. It was like pop versus rock. Some people like the pure tones of pop, but to me it's just gloss. There's nothing _behind_ it. Give me the heart-wrenching gritty guts of blues or rock any day.

Not that _A Crimson Kiss_ was written in a gritty way, but it sure was heart-wrenching. And the kissing was incredibly passionate! I dreamed scenes from it at night, waking some mornings still feeling the breathless transcendence of a perfectly delivered kiss.

Once I was fully awake, though, reality would strike.

It was only just a dream.

Just a romantic fantasy.

Then one morning, I found a book on the kitchen table beside an empty bowl. (A bowl with telltale signs of midnight bingeing on chocolate ice cream.) the book was splayed open, spine up, and the title was _Welcome to a Better Life._

I looked it over as I ate my usual before-school bowl of cereal. The section title were thinks like: "Re-envision Your Life!"; "The Time is NOW!"; "The Change is Yours to Make!"; "Living Your Best Life!"; "See It, Be It!"; "What Are You Waiting For?"; "Shift Your Paradigm!"; and "Four Steps to Living Your Fantasy!"

Four steps to living my fantasy?

This I had to see.

Too many anecdotes and testimonials later, the author finally put forth step number one:

_Define Your Fantasy._

Okaaaay.

I poured myself a second bowl of cereal and defined my fantasy:

I wanted love. A love like Grayson and Delilah's.

But something about that felt wrong. It was too heavy. Too serious.

I took a bite of my cereal, and as I munched, the image of Grayson kissing Delilah drifted through my mind.

_That_ was it.

The kiss.

I wanted my own "crimson kiss."

I went back to the book and discovered the step number two was easy:

_Speak Your Fantasy._

"I want a crimson kiss," I whispered into the quiet of the kitchen, feeling more than a little silly.

Step Three: _See Your Fantasy_

I closed my eyes and pictured myself as Delilah, pictured Grayson sweeping me into his arms, looking lovingly into my eyes, his mouth descending towards mine, his lips brushing against mine, warm and tender, full of smoldering passion…

Oh, yeah. I could definitely see it.

I shook off the shivers, then turned the page and discovered that step four was: _Live Your Fantasy._

Live my fantasy?

How was I supposed to do that?

All the book really offered by the way of explanation was, "See it, believe it, live it."

I snorted and slapped the book shut. What a rip-off!

Then I noticed the kitchen clock.

7:30?

Already?

I flew around the condo getting ready for school, and despite some unintentional banding and clanging, I managed to slip out the door without waking my mother.

I hurried toward school, and as I walked, my flip-flops seemed to slap to the rhythm of the steps outlined in _Welcome to a Better Life._

Speak Your Fantasy.

See Your Fantasy.

Live Your Fantasy.

The cadence of it was catchy. Like the chorus of a song.

Speak Your Fantasy.

See Your Fantasy.

Live Your Fantasy.

And as it repeated in my head, I suddenly realized how much my life had been dominated my parents' breakup. When was the last time I'd even thought about my own love life?

Speak Your Fantasy.

See Your Fantasy.

Live Your Fantasy.

Maybe it could be that easy. I could just live my own life! Get out from under their dark cloud! Have some _fun._

Speak Your Fantasy.

"I want a crimson kiss!" I shouted into the sky.

See Your Fantasy.

I spun in a fantasy dance across an intersection, adored in my mind's eye by my own dashing Grayson.

Live Your Fantasy.

I hurried onto the Yamaha High School campus. My life was going to change!


	3. Chapter 3: Miku Hatsune

Living the Fantasy

Chapter 3: Miku Hatsune

I made a beeline across the courtyard – hurrying past the outdoor stage, zigzagging between lunchtables and across patchy grass – to reach my best friend, Miku Hatsune, who was perched on "our" brick planter, organizing her binder.

I hopped up beside her. "I had an epiphany this morning."

"Really?" she asked, snapping the rings of her binder closed. "What's that?"

"I'm done being dragged though the knothole of my parents' life. I'm going to start living my own."

She looked up, blinked, then whooped and jumped off the planter. "It's about time!"

"Do you know how much I've missed this year? I didn't go out for volleyball, I didn't join soccer or help with the warmth drive… all I've done is live under their dark cloud and _study."_

Miku had been bounding with excitement, but she suddenly stopped, so I followed her line of sight across the courtyard.

It was Miki Furukawa.

"It wasn't her fault," I said quietly. "It was her mom's. and my dad's. I shouldn't have let it stop me."

"From playing volleyball?" Miku asked, giving me her trademark squint. "No one could have played under those circumstances!" she snorted. "Her mother and your dad together sitting together at games? Please."

I looked down. Miku had an uncanny way of putting her finger on the heart of the hurt.

The warning bell rang. "The point is," I said firmly. "I'm through letting it ruin my life. I need to have some fun. I need to shift paradigms."

"You need to _what_?"

I laughed, then spread out my arms and looked down at my baggy John Lennon "Imagine" T-shirt and frayed jeans. "I need a makeover!" I caught her eye. "And I need you to help me."

She collected her things. "Anything," she said. "You know that. Anything."

Then she gave me a tight hug, and we hurried off to our first-period classes.


	4. Chapter 4: Len Kagamine

Living the Fantasy

Chapter 4: Len Kagamine

Fot the past couple of years I've made a habit of ignoring Len Kagamine. He's gorgeous, but that's exactly why I ignore him.

Like he needs one more girl fawning over him?

We used to be friends, but that was back in middle school. Back when he wasn't afraid to be smart. Back before he grew into Len Kagamine, gorgeous jock.

So in first period all the other girls in class paid attention to Len Kagamine's biceps, and I paid attention to Mrs. Sakine's math lesson. Mrs. Sakine was a real pro. She's clear and concise, and there's no falling asleep in her class – she covers more material in a day than some teachers do in a week, and if you don't pay attention, you can kiss a good grade goodbye.

After math I continued though my morning classes, slipping into the typical rhythm of a school day. But somewhere in the middle of third period I realized that I was doing what I'd been doing all year: focusing, taking notes, getting a jump on the homework. Fun was no part of the equation. I was certainly not living my fantasy!

So as third period wound down. I did something I never do – I packed up early, and when the bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom.

Apparently I'm a complete klutz at bolting from classrooms, because not only did I hurt my wrist, I managed to slam the door into someone walking by.

Someone who turned out to be… Len Kagamine.

"Sorry!" I said, turning beet red.

"No problem," he replied.

And then he smiled at me.

Diamonds seemed to dance between his lips as he gazed at me. his eyes twinkled ocean blue. His hair looked like it had been combed though with sunshine.

Then he was gone.

But just like that, my fantasy found a direction.

A _destination_.

I staggered to my fourth-period class, out of breath and (granted) out of my mind. Suddenly all I could see was Len Kagamine's face.

All though Miss Megurine's Literature lecture I fantasized about Len Kagamine.

His eyes.

His smile.

His _lips._

I didn't concentrate on my classwork, didn't scrutinize the red comments on the essay Miss Megurine passed back. By the end of class my chance collision with the school's most gorgeous jock was completely entwined with my newfound desire to live my fantasy.

It had all become perfectly clear.

I need to kiss Len Kagamine.


	5. Chapter 5: New Attitude

Living the Fantasy

Chapter 5: New Attitude

At lunch when I told Miku what I wanted to do, she gave me her trademark squint and said, "_Len Kagamine_? How in the world do you expect to kiss Len Kagamine?"

"Shh!" I yanked her off to our corner of the courtyard, checking around for gossipmongers. "Look. I've got my assets-"

"Of course you do! But he just barely broke up with Neru, and in case you haven't noticed, she is _not_ over hime!" Miku whispered. "Plus Tei Sukone wants him _bad_, and Gumi Megpoid wants him _back_."

"So?"

"So? So? Helloooo, Rin… you know I love you – you're witty and thoughtful and loyal and smart… and very pretty" – she leaned in – "but since when can you compete with Neru, Tei, _or_ Gumi?"

I scowled at her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Rin, get real!" she squinted at me harder. "And why him?"

I shrugged. "He's gorgeous. And, well, experienced." I arched an eyebrow in her direction. "A crimson kiss does not reside on the lips of inexperience."

"A crimson kiss? What… from that book? You're still obsessed with that?"

I looked down and shrugged again. "I'm just trying to have some fun, okay? I'm trying to live a fantasy." I looked at her through my lashes. "You said you'd help me. you said 'Anything.'"

She bit her lip as she studied me, so I gave her a puppy-dog look and said, "please?"

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "I'll help you. So what's the plan?"

I smiled, happy to have her in my corner. "I really do need a new look."

She eyed my clothes and nodded. "Have any idea what?"

"Something to match my new attitude."

"You're talking about clothes? Makeup? Hair?"

"The works. What are you doing after school today?"

Her forehead cringed. "Today? I've got choir practice until five."

"Can you come over after?"

She hesitated, then said, "Sure. Why not?"

I hugged her. "You're the best!"


	6. Chapter 6: Ch-ch-ch-changes

Living the Fantasy

_Okay, so this chapter is sort of like how Rin gets her short haircut, and makeover. Yay! Makeover time~!_

Chapter 6: Ch-ch-ch-changes

After I got home I couldn't seem to concentrate on my schoolwork. I'd picked up a hair-highlighting kit at the pharmacy on my way home, so instead of studying math. I studied the directions. Then I studied myself in the mirror, trying to decide how much highlighting I really wanted to do. The old me would have gone subtle. The new me was saying, "Take chances! Make a _real_ change!"

I moved on to studying my mom's wardrobe (which is way cooler than mine), trying to find something that spoke to me from her boxes of still-packed clothes.

Then I studied the clock. It was already five-thirty.

What was taking Miku so long?

The phone rang five minutes later, and when I picked up, Miku said, "I'm so sorry! Mom made leek lasagna and she insisted I come home. Can we do it tomorrow?"

I told her, "Sure," but after I hung up, I decided to dive in on my own. I'd been waiting all afternoon to make a change, and I didn't want to put it off any longer!

So I took out the scissors, cranked up some classic David Bowie, and started snipping.

I'm actually good at cutting hair, because I've butchered Miku's long locks enough times to figure it out. I've also cut her brother Mikuo's hair, and now that I've got the skills, my mom lets me trim hers, too. Cutting hair is just basically applied geometry... which can get a little tricky when you're facing the mirror image of yourself, trying to get the scissors to go the right way.

I always do my own hair dry, which isn't the best, but I ssem to be able to see what I'm doing better that way. And I usually just trim little bits, but now after a few timid snips, I let the spirit of Bowie's "Changes" take charge of the scissors.

I took a deep breath and started _cutting_.

All through "Suffragette City," "Ziggy Stardust," "The Jean Genie," and "Rebel Rebel" I cut in layers. I cut of length. I gave myself long side-swept bangs and a cute shaggy flip at the nape of the neck. It was a style that cried out for oversized hoop earrings and eyeliner.

Ch-ch-ch-changes!

I felt good!

Mom called as I was mixing up the highlighter. "Rinnaline, honey. Would you mind vacuuming the carpets tonight? I didn't get to it this morning, and they really need it." She sounded tired, like she always does, but this time I was feeling so good that it didn't bring me down.

"Sure," I said brightly. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, then said, "Thank you. I needed that. But no. unless you want to wipe up that old orange juice spill in the fridge."

"Will do!"

I hung up and got busy streaking my hair.

Bowie sang "Ashes to Ashes," "Fashion," and "Under Pressure."

I sang along.

And while the highlights timer ticked and radical chemicals bleached orange streaks into my hair, I vacuumed crumbs and fuzz and a month's worth of dust out of the carpet, singing along when "Let's Dance" came on.

My dad called as I was putting the vacuum cleaner away.

"How are you?" he asked.

And just like that I was back under the cloud.

I wanted to say, "Better than I've been in ages! I'm moving on, Dad. Moving on!" But what came out of my mouth is what always comes out of my mouth when my dad tries to engage me in conversation.

"We're sorry, you've reached a number that has been disconnected. Please hang up and _don't _try again."

My highlights timer dinged as I hung up the phone.

So I cranked up "Dancing in the Street," then went to the sink to wash out my hair.


End file.
